The Love in Their Eyes
by heartslogos
Summary: "Let it Be Me" verse. Demeter knew how she must appear to others. But she's Persephone's mother. Demeter never gave Persephone away. But she sees the love in their eyes and tolerates this union. Until the day she can remove that love, she tolerates them.


**Disclaimer:** You can't own myths. You can write them, you can interpret them, you can't own them.

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Call me draconian, call me a fool, call me overbearing.

But never let it be said that I, Demeter, did not love my daughter.

Despite what several think of me I do realize that I may be severe in my dealings with my daughter and her _husband._

But I am a mother. I hold claim to her first. She is mine to give away. I have never done so. I have not relinquished her; she is _mine_ until I say otherwise. Do they not realize that it is by my _grace_ that I allow this farce of a relationship to continue? Should I have pressed matters I am quite certain that Zeus himself would have folded to my powers.

It disgusts me to think that _he_ has touched my daughter, my child, my Persephone.

I am her mother.

I know best. I have the strongest claim on her. He is nothing; she would come to_ me_ if I made her choose.

That's what I tell myself.

Every time we meet to change her between us I feel the doubt within me grow, surpassing my certainty of Persephone's loyalties.

Watching her leave me, it's all I can do not to break my word and take her away. I want to shake her, I want to break their bond. I want her to be mine again.

I know better. I hate that I know.

I know they _love_ each other. I hate it. I wish that my daughter never knew that side of love, the physical side of love, the love that only two people can share. I wish it was just her and me and the flowers again. I don't like sharing. I never had.

But I see it in their eyes.

Love.

The way he opens his arms to her, the way she folds herself into him, the way life _bursts_ into them the moment their eyes meet. The love in their gestures is profound and sickening and it makes me _sick_. It makes the Earth sick.

At first I had deluded myself.

She's mine. She'll always choose me. I'm her mother.

Then came the doubt.

The way their glances lingered, their touches screamed _just a little longer_, how they clung to each other like they were about to die.

After that came denial.

Persephone's smiles had always been that tolerating and tired. She'd always dressed in colors of striking red and vivid purple. She's always worn gems at her throat, braided into her hair, and at her wrists. She's always had that far away, dreamer, gaze in her eyes.

Following the denial came the need.

She needs to be with me. I need to see her every move. I need her to tell me everything. I need to tell her everything. I need her to see reason.

Then came the rage.

Persephone would not look me in the eye after I screamed. She would turn her face away from me. When I yelled at _him _he would do the same.

After that came bitter acceptance.

I would hold her as long as I could, try to keep as much of her attention away from him as possible, distract her for as long as I could. I tried to keep her happy. She tolerated my attentions. She gave me a placating embrace. But she ran -tearing girl's garments from her body, the childish daisies from her hair, replacing them with a queen's raiment and a veil of woman's roses and gemstones- to _him_. She ran away from me.

And he would stand there next to his chariot of doom and death. Draped in robes of the deepest blues and blacks, braced with silvers and gold, crowned with jewels of the earth, he waited outside the gates of heaven to receive her in open arms.

There they would stand and hold each other as if their bodies were fused as one.

It sickened me every time.

But there's hope. I see it in the way she touches the flowers when I'm with her. I have something he can't give her. I can give her light.

I can purge her of him. She can be mine again. It'll take time. But I'm Demeter, I'm the earth. I have time. I'll make my daughter mine again. I'll make him pay for what he's done. I'll make him hurt for taking my daughter.

But for now I must tolerate the love in their eyes. That sickening love, that love that should be mine only.

I am Demeter. I love my daughter. So for her I tolerate this blasphemous union. I tolerate it until the day I can extinguish the love in her eyes.


End file.
